


Blinking at the Camera

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claudia was a werewolf, Family Secrets, Gen, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles spent a long time trying to come to grips with the way his mother died of poisoning. When Scott gets bit and transformed into a werewolf, suddenly the chest of books hiding out in the Stilinski attic begin to make sense. As Stiles learns the truth about his mother's relationship with the Hale family, he might just start to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinking at the Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this tumblr prompt](http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/47542799651/why-is-there-no-fic-where-the-hales-give-stiles-mom) by swingsetindecember. Previously published on tumblr [here](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/post/72485166999/in-response-to-this-prompt-stiles-woke-up-to).

Stiles woke up to raised voices, which scared him because his parents never raised their voices, except if there was a baseball game on. As far as Stiles knew, baseball games only happened during the summer, and it was February. Needing to know what was going on, Stiles grabbed Wallace, his stuffed dog, and padded out of his room and toward the top of the staircase.

"I mean, Jesus, Claudia. It's like you're never here anymore! Do you know how often I come home to find that Hale boy babysitting? Where do you keep disappearing off to?" Dad sounded mad, and he sounded mad at Mommy, which didn't make any sense. Why would Dad ever be mad at Mommy? He loved Mommy.

"If I could tell you, I would, John." Mommy said, and Stiles could see her shadow on the stairwell wall. He gasped and slid back a few feet, but she paced away again. "You have to trust me."

"I trust you," Daddy said, doing that sighing thing that he always did after working a night shift. "I do trust you, but we're supposed to be a team. How can I help you if I don't know all the facts?"

Mommy's voice got quieter, so Stiles had to strain to hear her say, "If I need your help, I'll ask for it. And," she sighed, "I'll ask Melissa if she could take Stiles a few nights here and there, if leaving Stiles with Derek makes you uncomfortable."

"No, no. He's a good kid, but he's not a parent." Daddy sighed again. "This mission you're on, it's really this important to you?" Stiles perked up at the mention of a mission, wondering if his mother was some sort of secret agent, like in the cartoons Derek let him watch.

"Yes," Mommy replied, and Stiles pulled a disgusted face at the kissing sound that followed. "Only you and Stiles are more important to me."

Satisfied that all was well, Stiles sneaked back to bed and tucked himself in. He'd been tucking himself in a lot more often lately, because Derek never did it quite right.

~*~

"But why can't I just go over to Scott's?" Stiles asked, pulling at where his mom had his wrist in her hand. "It'll take two minutes!"

"I said no," Mom replied, her grasp on his wrist painfully tight. Stiles didn't like to admit it to himself, but something about his mother had changed. She was so angry all the time, now, even if she was around more often. "We don't have time for this, Stiles. We have to get you home to your father before nightfall."

"Why?" Stiles pulled back at his arm, not caring that his extra struggling would make it bruise. So what if his teacher saw the mark? It would serve his mom right for never listening to him anymore. "It's Friday. I don't have to go to bed until ten. You _promised_!"

"Why?" Mom turned around and practically bared her teeth at Stiles. He could have sworn he saw her eyes glow a weird shade of yellow, even if they were normally so dark brown they were almost black. "Because I said so!"

The glowing eyes and the angry expression scared Stiles and he gasped, swallowing his complaints and nodding his head. Her eyes were normal now, so Stiles figured he had to be seeing things. "Okay. Sorry, Mommy."

Mom's face softened and she let go of Stiles' arm, wincing at the red mark there. "Oh. Oh, baby. I'm sorry, too. I just–" She sighed. "I just need you to cooperate with me tonight. Please? You can get your trading cards from Scott's house in the morning."

Stiles nodded again, dropping his eyes. He'd cooperate, as long as he didn't have to see that look on his mom's face ever again.

~*~

Stiles spent the better part of the week his mother spent in the hospital right by her side. "Poisoning," the doctor said, when Stiles' parents thought he was out of the room. "All we can do is supportive treatment and hope the organs don't suffer too much damage. If we knew what _sort_ of poison it was, maybe I could find some neutralizing antibodies, but otherwise…"

Dad cleared his throat. "How long?"

"At this rate?" The doctor sounded sad, but not sad enough, considering this was Stiles' _mother_ she was talking about. "We're expecting total organ failure within 36 hours. If there's anyone you'd like to call, now would be the time."

Stiles' mom cried out at the news and his dad sobbed, a loud, wet sound that Stiles had never heard from him before. 

When Stiles' mom was still alive four days later, despite the fact that she couldn't breathe on her own, Stiles thought maybe she'd pull through. He sat next to her bed and held her hand, praying to every deity he'd ever heard of that she was strong enough to beat this.

Stiles missed another day of school to be with his mother, and his dad didn't protest. "You should stay, too," Stiles told his dad when he dropped him off at the hospital. "It doesn't matter that she can't see you or hear you. You should be here."

"I'll just work for a few hours," Dad assured Stiles. "We need the money."

Stiles sighed dramatically, the knot in his gut clenching tightly. "We can sell my snowboard, Dad. We can sell all my comics, I swear. Just come in. Just today."

Dad looked out the windshield for a moment and it almost looked like he was going to cave and stay. But then he shook his head. "Sorry, pal. I just can't make it happen. The sheriff needs me."

As he hopped out of his father's cruiser, Stiles said under his breath, "The sheriff can go screw herself." He gave his dad one last wave and went to take his place beside his mother.

Her skin looked even waxier today, and her curly hair even more matted down. He held her hand and it felt cold, lifeless, even though the machine assured Stiles that her heart was still beating. 

After a few hours, someone other than a nurse came into the room. Stiles half hoped that it was his father, but instead it was one of Mom's friends. Mrs. Hale, Derek's mom. "Hi, Stiles."

"Mrs. Hale," Stiles replied, nodding at her and squeezing his mother's hand that much tighter. "She's still not awake."

Tears in her eyes, Mrs. Hale nodded and sat down in the chair on the other side of Mom's bed. 

After a long moment of silence, during which Mrs. Hale rearranged Mom's hair a little, primping it up the way Mom liked it, Stiles spoke. "She's not going to wake up, is she?"

"Probably not," Mrs. Hale replied with a sad smile. She brushed her face with a tissue, dabbing the tears away from her cheeks. Then she stood up and leaned over Stiles' mom, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Stiles thought he heard her whisper, "Goodbye, my friend." She then said, "Goodbye, Stiles."

"Bye," Stiles said after her as Mrs. Hale left. An hour and a half later, Claudia Stilinski's body gave out and she died. 

~*~

Stiles saw the Hale family at his mother's funeral, but he was too busy being coddled by his grandmother to talk to any of them. At the gravesite, when everyone threw flowers onto Mom's grave, each of the Hales threw a purple flower Stiles didn't recognize. He did notice the way each of them winced when they took the flowers from the bouquet Mrs. Hale held in her leather-gloved hands. Derek even stuck one of his fingers in his mouth afterward, sucking on it like it hurt. Stiles threw a lily his grandmother gave him, even though tulips were his mother's favorite.

When his father threw the first shovel of dirt onto the casket, Stiles felt his chest tighten. He tried to breathe in, but the air wouldn't come and the world around him began to shake. She was never coming back. She was gone. Completely and forever gone.

Stiles broke out of his grandmother's grasp and stumbled away, ignoring several pleas for him to come back. His father's calming murmur silenced the protests and no one followed Stiles as he picked up speed, gasping for breath and running away from the gravesite.

Finally he collapsed against a tree, hunched over and staring at the grass, trying to focus on it through the tears. There wasn't enough air. There'd never be enough air. The death of Stiles' mother was going to kill him.

A hand landing on Stiles' back made him flinch and strike out at it. "Go away!"

"Shh," a voice said, the hand landing on the back of Stiles' neck. All of a sudden, the pain in Stiles' chest disappeared. He still felt like he lungs wouldn't work and he couldn't see straight, but at least it didn't feel like he was going to die. "It's going to be okay."

"No it's not, Derek," Stiles said, finally recognizing the figure next to him. "I don't have a mom anymore. You wouldn't understand."

Stiles looked up and saw his father standing with Mrs. Hale about fifty yards away. A jealous rage bubbled up in Stiles' throat and he pushed Derek away just as he was able to take a deep breath. "See?" he yelled, pushing at Derek again, even though the boy was almost twice as big as him now. "She's right there. This is _never_ going to be okay for me."

Three months later, when Stiles saw Derek sitting alone in the Sheriff's station, his bookbag at his feet and his head in his hands, Stiles sat down next to him. "I'm sorry."

Derek turned, looking at Stiles with one tear-reddened eye. He shrugged and went back to looking at the floor again. Stiles stayed sitting with Derek, trying not to fidget too much, until his dad called him away. Derek looked up when Stiles left and returned his wave. Stiles passed Derek's older sister, Laura, on the way out of the building. She looked way too tired and way too old for a freshman in college.

~*~

Stiles knew his dad would never do it, so about a year after his mother's death, during summer break, he took it upon himself to deal with the majority of his mother's things. Like, the clothes in the bottom of her closet that she hated, or the stack of wallpaper samples that had been sitting on the dining room table for months before she even died.

Stiles started by throwing out the macadamia nut ice cream in the freezer. Dad shoudn't be eating it and Stiles was allergic, so out it went. He wanted to donate the clothes, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. Instead, he boxed them up and put everything in the attic. He did it slowly, so his dad wouldn't notice big changes. 

One day, when he was putting a box of his mom's creepy clown figurines up in the attic, he came across a trunk he'd never seen before. He'd probably never seen it because it was underneath a box labeled "Grandma Stilinski's clothes", which Stiles also noted held several bottles of liquor with a fur coat draped over them.

The trunk was made out of polished wood, and had clearly seen better days. Curiosity had always been one of Stiles' strong suits, so he didn't hesitate long before opening the lid. A solid layer of books lay beneath. 

Intrigued, Stiles picked up the first book. Turning it over, Stiles saw that it had some designs etched into the leather cover, but no words. He opened it and found page after page of cryptic lettering. None of it made sense, not in English or Spanish or any language Stiles recognized. 

The next book was in English, and it talked about all sorts of plants and their mystical properties. The one after that was about these medieval-looking medical practices, including some graphic woodcarvings in the middle detailing how to amputate a limb. The fourth book appeared to be in Latin. The fifth had more information about plants. The sixth was titled "Beastiary" and gave detailed information about all sorts of mythical creatures.

Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and called Scott. "Dude, I think my mom was a witch."

"Uh..." Scott replied. "I mean, okay. Why would you think that?"

"If she wasn't a witch, she had a really weird book collection up in the attic," Stiles said.

"Maybe they're your dad's?" 

"Yeah, right." Stiles laughed. "My dad barely reads the paper. And he's always at work. When would he have time to be a witch? Warlock? Wizard? Whatever."

After a brief silence, Scott asked, "I wonder why your mom never told you she was a witch."

"Well." Stiles said, taking the Beastiary and the medical book with him as he closed up the trunk and climbed down from the attic. "Maybe there's witch hunters. Maybe it wasn't safe to tell anyone. I bet my dad didn't know. She always kept something from him. It must've been this."

"Cool," Scott said. "So you coming over after dinner?"

"Nah." Sitting down at his desk, Stiles cracked open the Bestiary. "Too much homework tonight."

"Uh-huh," Scott said, his tone the one he used when Stiles tried to convince him aliens had landed in the Preserve or that the fry cook at Lottie's was actually Elvis. "Homework. See ya tomorrow, Stiles."

"Tomorrow," Stiles replied absently as he started reading, absently thumbing at the button that would disconnect the call.

Okay, Stiles was pretty sure magic chinchillas weren't a thing. Like, wolves and mountain lions and hummingbirds he could see, but chinchillas? No way.

~*~

Stiles didn't spend too much of his time looking at his mother's books. After all, he had actual homework (if he could concentrate on it) and video games and hanging out with Scott. But then summer happens and Scott's parents split up. And then the next summer happens and Stiles is 13 and alone all summer, because Rafael McCall moved to LA and took Scott with him for the whole summer.

So Stiles watches a lot of movies. He mainlines all six episodes of Star Wars eight times. He watches Lord of the Rings and Lord of the Flies and Mean Girls. He watches just about any PG-13 rated movie he can get his hands on. If his dad wasn't checking the Netflix queue once a week, he would have moved on to R-rated movies, too. As it was, he pirated a few from the internet and spent one terrifying night convinced that the noises on the roof were aliens coming to drip acid blood on him and make him incubate their young.

One day, Stiles was searching for the disc for _I am Legend_ when he came across the Bestiary again. He knocked it out of the way trying to get back behind his desk and it fell open to a page about werewolves. The page was dog eared, and Stiles wondered if maybe his mother had been interested in werewolves. 

He looked up every werewolf movie ever made and added all of the ones his dad would allow him to watch to the top of the queue. 

When Dad saw his Netflix account that week, he put a stern eye on Stiles and said, "Kid, are you _sure_ you don't have any friends other than Scott? I fear for your sanity here."

"All the other kids are lame," Stiles replied, leaving off a comment about how Lydia Martin totally got more interesting now that she had boobs. It wasn't like she'd _ever_ talk to him, so why get Dad's hopes up? Stiles could continue developing into a normal, sane teenager when Scott got back from LA.

"But _werewolves_?" Dad asked. "Is this some sort of puberty metaphor thing? Do you need to have The Talk again? About _hair_ or something?"

Stiles shuddered and pushed Dad out of his room. "Dad, I never need the talk, ever again. Trust me."

"Okaay," Dad muttered as he walked away. Stiles unpaused _The Wolfman_ and continued watching it. He did _not_ take a peek down his briefs at the few curls of hair he'd managed to grow in the last year. He was totally normal, thank you very much.

~*~

Stiles knew that his obsession with all things macabre wasn't exactly normal, but he got good at playing the "dead mom" card with everyone who expressed concern. And seriously, if being normal meant not being intensely curious about someone who was murdered and cut in half in his own town, Stiles didn't want to be normal.

Later, he did regret insisting that Scott come with him. Scott didn't have any dead parents, just a dead great-grandfather and an absentee father. He wouldn't even watch _Star Wars_ , for fuck's sake. Plus, the whole Scott getting attacked by a wild animal thing wasn't fun either.

The whole day at school, Scott seems off kilter, which at first Stiles brushes off as an effect of being attacked by a wild dog (wolves haven't lived in California in almost 60 years, Stiles looked it up during his werewolf obsession phase). What really changes Stiles' mind is the incredible way Scott performs at la crosse. And then the amazing feats of hearing and super smell.

Stiles had been primed practically from birth to be on the lookout for supernatural, mutant-like abilities in himself and his friends. How else was he going to get an invitation to Xavier's School for the Gifted? Stiles knew that Scott had always been more practical, like Mrs. McCall. He wouldn't believe Stiles' theories. So Stiles tested the waters with a joke.

It didn't go well.

The figure that then appeared felt like a ghost out of another lifetime. Derek Hale looked different from the last time Stiles had seen him, in the Sheriff's station right after the fire. His shoulders were broader, his neck and jaw were thicker, he looked all grown up. Stiles suddenly felt very self-conscious about his skinny body.

Derek didn't seem to recognize Stiles, so maybe he didn't look much like the ten year old he used to be when Derek knew him. Stiles sure as shit didn't look likes some sort of underwear model, either. The thought made Stiles' stomach tumble and then Derek was gone.

That night, Stiles went home and dug out all of his mother's books. He read and reread the sections about werewolves. He googled his fingers off. Stiles came to the conclusion that werewolves were real.

Werewolves were real and Stiles' mother knew about them.

Stiles rubbed his wrist and remembered the flash of yellow light he'd seen in his mother's eyes. At the party, when Scott insists that Derek Hale is a werewolf, everything falls into place. Stiles feels like he hasn't seen this clearly ever in his life.

Derek Hale, one of the last remaining of his giant family, the family that Stiles caught glimpses of at town picnics and when his parents invited Mr. and Mrs. Hale over for dinner, was a werewolf. All of the Hales had been werewolves. Stiles' mother had werewolved with them. Werewolves had killed Stiles' mother, poisoned her somehow, and now Stiles' best friend had become one.

When Stiles confronted Derek in the cruiser, he didn't have time to ask about his mother. When Derek sat dying in Stiles' Jeep, he found the courage. "You knew my mother."

Derek glared at Stiles, his eyes all sunken into his head. It reminded Stiles of the way his mother looked the week she was dying. "I knew a lot of people."

"Was she always a werewolf?" Stiles demanded, pulling over to the side of the road and staring at Derek. "Or did she get bit?"

Derek stared out the window for what felt like forever before he finally spoke. "I don't know how it happened, but your mother and mine were friends. She helped us with a lot of… of pack stuff. Then she got sick."

"She was poisoned." Stiles pointed out. "A lot like what's happening to you right now, buddy."

Shaking his head, Derek said, "Before that. Cancer. It was bad. Mom gave her the bite to save her life."

Stiles gaped. How could he never have known his mother had _cancer_? The only way it made sense was if his father didn't know either. "She still– she _died_ , Derek. Becoming a werewolf didn't save her."

"It did." Derek sighed and moved his hand over the wound in his arm. "Until the Argents came to town."

Stiles suddenly wanted Allison's aunt and her father and her mother and every single member of her family dead. Strangely, he didn't want Allison dead. Not quite. Like, Scott was really into her, and she would've been too young to know what was going on when his mother had died.

"So this, this magic bullet that Scott's looking for," Stiles said as he turned back onto the road. "You guys couldn't find one of those for my mom?"

Derek clenched his jaw and shook his head. "They injected it into her bloodstream. There was nothing anyone could do."

"You know, my dad's still obsessed with finding out who poisoned her. He barely closes any of the cases he's supposed to be working on. It's not right."

"I know," Derek said, wincing at his arm again. "None of this is right."

After a long stretch of silence, Stiles finally spoke up again. "You know, this really does a lot to explain why my mom could not, for the life of her, take a picture where she wasn't blinking. She did it on purpose, didn't she?"

The edge of Derek's mouth twitched up. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."

~*~


End file.
